


Check Me Out, I Can’t Blend In

by robotguts



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No plague just deep seated personal issues, Other, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Unrequited Love, not a slowburn these two have no chill, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28584099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotguts/pseuds/robotguts
Summary: Modern Fantasy AU.When someone knocks loudly on the door hours after Asra drives his terrible, spluttering van away, Nicholai nearly jumps out of his own skin. He doesn’t really know anyone, so far as he can remember, that would just drop by without any warning.(Whatever he’d been expecting, Julian was something else entirely.)
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Character(s), Julian Devorak/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Check Me Out, I Can’t Blend In

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been itching to write about my OC apprentice and Julian for a while! Hope it’s interesting enough!
> 
> (Nicholai is definitely more of an OC than a reader-insert. Beware if that’s not your cup of tea!)

Nicholai tries to help Asra pack for wherever he’s going, but he feels like more of a hindrance than anything else. The tiny apartment they share above the magic shop looks like a natural disaster, but it’s not too far off from its default state even as Asra tosses various toiletries and ominous-looking objects and random clothing items from the floor into two massive duffel bags in the center of the living room. Nicholai eventually busies himself with trying to fold and organize things in the bag in between the furious bouts of Asra throwing shit around. He’s rearranging deck chairs on the titanic, he realizes, but it’s the only thing he can really do the quell the bubbling anxiety at the idea of his boss’s departure. 

It’s fine, he tells himself. He asked for this. He’d like a chance to prove it wasn’t a mistake to take him on as an apprentice. Faust curls up on top of one of the bags and tilts her head at him. 

“Ready?’ the familiar asks, and Nicholai shrugs his shoulders at her. He is always unsure if Faust is truly a snake, or if she is more an artifact of snake-shaped magic. Either way, he’s developed a certain reverence for her--just as he has for any precious magic artifact (and those generally can’t even talk.) 

“Not a clue, ma’am. You’ll have to squeeze that information out of the boss.”

Then, as if on cue: “Nicholai! Would you come help me with something?” Asra’s voice rings out from the general direction of the bathroom, and Nicholai scrambles to follow. 

Asra is facing the bathroom mirror, leaning heavily against the countertop, wearing a dress Nicholai hasn’t seen before. (At least, he thinks it’s a dress? It might just be a long shirt, considering it ends at his boss’s mid-thigh and he’s wearing shiny black pants underneath. Nicholai… doesn’t know much about fashion.) Whatever it is, it’s unzipped--leaving bare a wide ‘v’ of bare skin that ends just above the center of Asra’s back.

“Zip me up, would you?” he asks.

“Is this an official apprenticeship thing?” Nicholai jokes. The bathroom is tiny, and it’s more than a little awkward to slide in behind Asra without pressing against the wall and letting the towel rack jut into his upper back. 

He can see Asra smile in the mirrored reflection, “Not unless you’ve got a zipper spell at the ready.”

“...Is that a thing?”

“If it were, would I have called you in here?” Asra says, a little fond and a little frustrated. A fair point. “No. It’s an official roommate thing. Chop-chop.” Asra’s phone buzzes against the counter, making a short, sharp rattling sound. He hits ‘ignore’ before Nicholai can even peek at the screen. 

The zipper gets stuck halfway up, and Nicholai fumbles with it for a near-embarrassing amount of time. When he finally manages it, Asra turns to face him.

“You could come with me, you know.” Asra says, “More than enough room in the van.” 

“Someone should probably stick around to run the shop.”

“It’s a college town.” Asra hums, his voice dry and unworried, “I’m sure all the students can find somewhere else to buy their incense. If not, I’m sure they can wait a week.”

“But  _ boss _ ,” Nicholai says, clutching his chest with feigned shock and horror, “how will they hide the smell of weed on a Wednesday afternoon?” That was not to say, of course, that the shop did not have a wealth of serious regulars who were actually interested in the mystical arts. He’d met Nadia through the shop, after all, and she’d been very serious about Nicholai helping to find out about finding out whatever happened to her terrible ex. But there was also a wealth of college students who saw magic as more of a novelty--an interesting relic of a bygone era--than anything else. It was a hit-or-miss crowd. 

Asra shrugs, “Like I said, I’m sure they’ll figure it out.” His phone buzzes again and this time he nearly knocks it off the counter in his haste to ignore the call, “You know I’ll miss you, right?” he says, leaning leaning back and resting against Nicholai’s chest. After a brief moment, Asra pulls away and steadies himself. 

Nicholai shakes his head, following Asra back into the living room so he can collect his bags, “Nah, boss. I really think I should stick around. Get a few things done. See if I can drag Muriel out of the house for a bit, maybe.” 

Asra shrugs, and Nicholai follows him back into the little living room area, “Suit yourself.” 

“You should probably get going, though. Not polite to keep a lady waiting.” Nicholai motions toward Faust, who bobs her head in agreement. 

\------

When someone knocks loudly on the door hours after Asra drives his terrible, spluttering van away, Nicholai nearly jumps out of his own skin. He doesn’t really know anyone, so far as he can remember, that would just drop by without any warning. Nadia seemed far too specific in her actions and polite in her manner to pop by without at least a little warning. Portia, maybe, but they’d met a few times and it was difficult to tell if she liked him, or just liked to make him stumble over his words. 

Nicholai tries to look through the peephole in the door quietly, but his size makes it difficult to do much of anything quietly, and he’s sure the visitor can hear the old floor creaking under him. 

What’s worse is that he knows the man on the other side. 

Knows  _ of  _ him, at least. 

He can’t quite place the man’s last name, but he’s almost certain he and Julian (Nicholai is almost  _ certain  _ his name is Julian) had taken classes together before he’d surreptitiously flunked out of medical school. Or maybe he’s been a TA for one of his classes? It was certainly something like that, despite most of his memory of that period of his life being blotted out by substance abuse and sickness.

What’s more concerning than the idea he might know him, however, is that the man on the other side of the door looks like he’s on the verge of tears. 

Which isn’t unheard of. He wouldn’t be the first person to come straight from a heartbreak to ask about a tarot reading or something of the like. It’s also not a secret that Asra lives just above the shop.

Nicholai, now fully unpresentable in a ratty t-shirt and gray sweatpants, tells himself he should yell through the door and tell him—in the kindest way he can— to come back tomorrow. He backs away from the door and steels himself for it.

Julian beats him to the punch, “Asra! Whatever I’ve done,  _ I’m sorry,”  _ he says, loud enough for Nicholai to hear and sad enough that he’s opening the door before he even has time to think about it. 

They both jump at the sight of each other, somehow. 

“You—“ Julian closes in on himself, crossing his arms tight over his chest and flushing red, “—are not Asra.”

“No. I. Um. Roommate. Apprentice, also. Yes.” Perfect. Graceful. Eloquent. 

“Is Asra here?” Julian glances past him into the empty apartment, “No, I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me that. Just, is he alright? He, er,  _ missed  _ a few of my calls.”

“Oh, yeah,” Nicholai nods sharply, a little quicker than he means to, “He’s on the road, is probably why he didn’t answer?” He had the sneaking suspicion that neither of them believed that.

“Right. Of course. I’m… so, so sorry for bothering you.”

Julian still looks devastated. Nicholai feels a terrible little pit of worry in the bottom of his stomach.

“Would you like to come in?” Nicholai asks, “Looks like you might be having a rough night and any friend of Asra’s is a friend of mine.” Honestly, he wouldn’t have any friends otherwise. 

“I shouldn’t do that.” 

“Shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to do. But the offers on the table. I could give you a reading, even? Might cheer you up.”

Julian’s posture loosens and he smiles, “Alright, Mr. Magician. Suppose the cards can’t make my night any worse.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments are super appreciated! I have no idea if this is anything without feedback!


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